Today is such a freaking beautiful day in Seattle. The weather is just right for me to wear my new grey lambswool sweater over my hip light/dark blue plaid shirt. And with my wind tossed hair, OOOOOOOO-EE, I am looking good and feeling a little like Al Joad in 'The Grapes of Wrath' ... that'd be after-church-pre-desperate-flee-to-California Al Joad. But you knew that, my Okidorks.
It's such a nice day that I was only momentarily considering an uzi to solve the following problem ...
(For the following scenario I am going to replace the monotonous duty that I do every day with the phrase "wear tennis shoes", another activity that I do every day)
Me: (Walking down the hall) Pretty Br-ent, walking down the street ... Pretty Br-ent with Sauconys on his feet.
This woman: (Running up behind me) Brent! Brent! I really need you to "wear tennis shoes" today. It's very important.
Me: O.K., just so you know, I "wear tennis shoes" everyday.
This woman: Oh, well I need you to (no joke) triple "wear tennis shoes".
Me: (Confused, very confused)
There was even a note attached to the thing that I was supposed to "wear tennis shoes". It reads ...

This needs to "wear tennis shoes" - no acceptions!
This woman

She really wrote "no acceptions", it's not another of my AC/DC kilt mistakes. This is very frustrating because the more I try to explain to her (and show her documentation) that I "wear tennis shoes" every day the more she becomes convinced that I don't.
I wonder if this has been a pattern for her entire life.
"Columbus sailed the ocean blue in 14 hundred and ninety-two!"
"1947, hmm?"
"No, 1492."
"Yep, 1947 sounds right."
"That's right, in 19 hundred and forty-seven all good Columbuses went to heaven."
But, like I said, it was too nice of a day to consider uzi therapy for more than 12 seconds.
I went and got R. Valentine her, well, her Valentine's Day present today. What did I get her? It's a really cool little ... can't fool me, dorks. I know you're all agents for the man.
"But we aren't agents for the man."
"Agents for the man. I should have known."
"But this paper here says that I'm not an agent for the man."
"That's right, that paper says you are an agent for the man."
Actually, that would be a pretty fun outlook on life.
Well, I need to run out of this office now, my blog buddies. It's time to stash gifts, eat protein and drive to see my snickerdoodles for some pseudo-spring loving.
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